


Age Is But A Number

by 7CuteCreationImagination7



Series: Age is Just a Number [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Gen, Natasha-centric, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-02-17 05:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7CuteCreationImagination7/pseuds/7CuteCreationImagination7
Summary: Natasha Romanov's life -- with an age-defying twist





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first proper fanfic for Avengers ( don't look at the other one unless you like to make your eyeballs please)  
> This is due to a headcanon that I have had in my head for months, so here we go.
> 
> All and any constructive criticism is welcome, same with comments and kudos.
> 
> Have fun reading, and God Bless

Clint  
He sat there, on the rooftop, arrow poised and ready. He felt the adrenaline thrumming through his veins, the cold wind whipping at his bare arms, but still he remained like a statue.

He could pretend that this was a regular job, just let the arrow fly, discreetly end a drug cartel or a trafficking ring, and go home.

But this was /so/ not a normal job.

This was the Black Widow.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. Obviously he was on the look out for a petite, muscular woman with green eyes, and hidden weapons, but apart from that, he was clueless.

He, like the rest of the world, knew next to nothing about her.

She had begun six years ago, taking off politicians, intelligence agents and government workers from around the world. A standard assassin. Still dangerous, but it was obvious that she was working with an agency of some sort ( Probably a KGB remnant), which assured SHIELD that she was a controlled threat.

But six months ago, things had changed.

A hospital had gone up in flames, which was awful, but the strange part was that there were minimal casualties. Only three people had died in the enormous fire.

Blurry video footage of a woman with the black widow insignia confirmed SHIELD’s suspicions.

Then the seemingly random killings had begun. The odd doctor, especially ones that worked in genetics or body modifications, began to disappear. One month, six former heads of orphanages also vanished.

The killings were not structured and meaningful. SHIELD had to take action, before the killing spree got out of hand. 

She was dangerous, it had taken years to work out the little information that they had, and they were usually left grasping at strings. They had already lost one agent, and severely injured three in the various attempts to bring her down.

So here he was, Clinton Francis Barton, in the freezing cold, waiting to kill the world’s most notorious assassin.

 

He still felt guilty though.

He thought of Laura, Cooper and tiny baby Lila back home. So innocent. So kind. And yet they were his.

Normal husbands didn’t leave for weeks on end, and come back injured with blood on their hands.  
Normal dads are policemen, or engineers or tailors, not snipers.

He indulged in the self pity, until a movement caught his eye.

She was here.

He looked out, expecting an older woman, stocky and a face lined with the darkness of her past.  
Not a tired looking young woman.

Not someone who was younger than him.

And definitely not someone that looked like what Lila would look like when she grew up.

He silently jumped down, to get a closer look.

She was petite, and had some muscle, but her face was soft and round. She had bright green eyes, and mousy brown hair, which hung limply at her neck.

She was thin, painfully so, and had blood dripping from her leg.

But her face was odd. There were no scars.

Even though they had video footage of herself, two weeks ago, with a large bleeding gash on her forehead.

Then again, the light was dodgy.

He was about to speak, when she jumped the gun.

“ If you are going to shoot, do it quickly. Police will be on patrol in this area in ten minutes.”

He paused, letting her works wash over him, until he understood their real meaning. She was giving up.

He frowned, weighing up his options.

He should kill her. He should fulfil the mission objective. It wasn’t like this was the first difficult mission he had ever had.

But he couldn’t help but this that this was wrong. Her face was meant to be more scarred. She wasn’t supposed to be this accepting of death. He wasn’t supposed to feel like he was killing his infant daughter.

He put the bow down, and sat on the window ledge, suspicious green eyes following his movements.

“ That means you have about ten minutes to decide. SHIELD could use you. No more running. No more random killings. You’d be doing good.”

She had frowned at the word random, and as she stepped into the light, he couldn’t help but notice that her face flickered, like a screen. He shook his head and passed it off as a trick of the light.

“ Yes. I will come with you. If they kill me nothing will have changed. And the american’s are less brutal. Yes, I will come in” She said it slowly, like she was waiting for him to change his mind.

He numbly grinned, stretching his arm out to her, pushing back thoughts at the repercussions this decision would have.

Coulson was going to kill him, jointly with Fury, Hill, May and possibly Hand. He hoped it was worth it.

 

He walked with her, subtly supporting her body weight as her jeans slowly turned from blue to dark red.

He walked on the quinjet, the pilot frowning at him disapprovingly as he handcuffed her to her seat.

He didn’t look at her pale, almost green face. He didn’t think of the way he had had to take fifteen types of weapons off her person.

He just thought that Laura would be proud, and that Cooper and Lila, and any other future children might finally have a dad they can look up to.

A dad that only kills the really really bad guys.

 

She disappeared as soon as the quintet landed, and he was sat in front of Fury, Coulson and Hill, when he finally realised just how strange his decision had been.

“ Barton, I know you’ve had to make tough calls before, and that most of the time, your weird decisions make sense, but this, this is just weird.  
She is dangerous. We know nothing about her — and you want us to make her an agent!?”

Coulson continued ranting as Fury’s eye bore into his skull and Hill frantically texted on her phone. Clint tuned it out until Fury finally spoke.

“ Go home. Stay with Laura, and look after your kids. Maybe going back to work so soon after having a baby has emotionally compromised you. Be back in six months. Take this as paternity leave.”

He was about to protest, when he realised what he was being offered. A sabbatical — where he could be a dad, be a husband, and be normal, if only for a few months.

 

He walked out of SHIELD, happy and proud.

He relaxed happily for those six months, but he couldn’t ignore the niggling curiosity about what had happened to the Black Widow.

 

 

Natasha ( Start of next chapter)

 

Natalia sat in the cell, wondering what on earth she was doing with her life.  
She glared at the security camera, and wondered if she had simply traded one hell for another…….


	2. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha sits in her cell, wondering if she made the right decision to follow the man with the bow....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,   
> 1)Merry Christmas to you all.  
> 2) I hope you enjoy this fic, any constructive criticism, tips or general comments are very much appreciated.  
> 3) I love you all and God bless

Chapter 2

Natasha

Natalia sat in the cell wondering what she was doing with her life.  
She was a weapon, a tool, a puppet. And now that she had cut her own strings, she was freely falling, with no control over where she was going.

She glared at the security camera and wondered if she had simply traded one hell for another.

This cell was odd. It wasn’t like her old cell, back in Stalingra— no, that was old history, the new name that angered the teachers .... hmmmm..... Volgograd!

There she had been held in rusted chains of steel, the damp, mouldy air sinking into her skin as she prepared to be put into the mach— no, dwelling on the past would de her no good.

Though this was a small, cramped cell they had given her clothes, and offered her food and medical attention, but she couldn’t shrug the nagging feeling that the food was poisoned or that the “medical attention” would uncover all of her secrets.

Or that this was way, way too good to be true, and she would wake up in a battlefield again.

She hoped the security camera would turn off so she could re-calibrate the face-veil. 

Otherwise, it would fade, revealing that she may be slightly younger than anticipated.

She wasn’t quite sure when she had first begun to wear it. Perhaps after her tenth mission.  
It worked wonders. She could convince men she was a promiscuous young adult, instead of a murderous teen, and could get job placements, where no one her age would ever enter.

Also, people treated her with more respect, when they assumed that she was a world-weary adult, rather than a world weary teenager. Which wasn’t ageist at all!

She paced the cell, trying to find the blind spot of the security camera, blocking out the increasing pain in her leg. She would fix it later, she just needed some antiseptic some cause and perhaps some antibiotics.

When she finally found the blind spot, she peeled her electronic face-veil off, tapped a few discreet buttons, and then fixed back on, smoothing it over her face, hoping that the camera didn’t catch it.

Suddenly she heard the tapping of buttons, and the heavy sigh of a …hmmm… physically fit middle aged man.

The metallic door slid open reveal a very stern looking Nicholas Fury.

He eyed her, and then sat down on the bed, surveying her form.

“ Look, I don’t know why the h*** Barton thought bringing you in would be a good idea, but, here we are. You have two options.

You can to into witness protection for the rest of your life. Fake name, fake details etc, but you would’ve weekly check ups with SHIELD. You’re in your early twenties so we can convince people you jut graduated from college.  
Or, you become a SHIELD recruit. You would get coursework, do paper work and admin for a while, and maybe, if you pass all fitness, psych and intelligence tests, you can become an agent.”

 

Natalia remained a static front but inwardly grinned. Her facade of being nine years older than she really was , well, it had worked marvellously.

She then pondered her options. Witness protection would be fun, if boring, but becoming a SHIELD agent, that would be a challenge.

It would be her last stab against the Red Room and HYDRA, their pet project turning against them.

“ I would like to become an agent, Director”

He smiled, bright white teeth contrasting with his coffee coloured face. He seemed to approve of her decision.

“ Very well, Miss …”

Clever, she thought, trying to subtly attain information by using an informal context. Interesting.

Technically she had no name. Natalia Romanova was a name given to her on her twelfth birthday, a year before her graduation, before then, she had merely been Subject 00378900.

“ Romanoff… Natasha Romanoff”

He looked at her pensively, as if he knew she had made the name up on the spot, but he just shook his head, and stretched his hand out towards her.

“ Nicolas Fury, Level Nine Director of SHIELD”.

Interesting. There were higher up directors. She wondered if they knew about her situation or cared.

She didn’t take his hand, no that would be idiotic. The last time she had taken someone — someone who wasn’t a civilian— ’s hand she had ended up in electrically charged handcuffs. That had sucked.

She nodded, and backed away from his hand. He frowned, and placed it back in his coat.

He stood up, and giving her one last glance, he stalked out.

She was about to try and figure out an emergency escape plan, incase his options had been bluffs to placate her, or that the higher ups had changed their minds, when all of a sudden, she door slid open and …. it wasn’t locked behind the person.

She debated making a run for it, staring at the empty space of yellow light, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she looked up to see the ridiculously brave, kind or stupid person before her.

He peered at her curiously, unlike anyone had looked at her before. He wasn’t reviewing her as a scientific specimen, like the doctors and scientists back … there. There was no lust, or greed in his eyes. He looked at her like …. like she was a person.

“ Ma’am, I’m here to escort you to your room. If you would please let me take you for a quick medical check up first, I would be grateful. I am Agent Coulson, Miss Romanoff.”

Whilst she was intrigued by the word room, as she had assumed that this large, and heavily monitored, if dark cell was her quarters; but her heart beat increased at the words “ Medical Check up”.

Memories of malicious men in lab coats, holding her down as they recorded her reactions to pain, temperature changes and environmental conditions. Lab coated women ordering a man with a silver arm to push her into a cryogenic chamber. Serums and medicines that made her sick, killed her classmates and pleased the chemists.

“ No” she gasped, not looking up to see the concern in the man’s pale eyes.

“ No medical. Just — Just give me a…a first aid k-kit and I’ll, I’’ll be ready to work for you.”

He slowly nodded, and walked out.  
She followed him through endless corridors, and whilst she committed the route to memory, rapid thoughts of escape plans flashing though her head, she knew she was dangerously close to passing out.

They finally stopped at a room, and she numbly thanked the agent as she collapsed the bed.

She looked for cameras, and satisfied that there were none, she grabbed her handcuffs and went to sleep, not bothering to patch up the wound that was sluggishly bleeding all over the bed.


	3. Maria Hill Finds Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. First off, I'm really sorry about the month-long hiatus. I hope this chaper makes up for it. Any ideas or tips or criticism is welcome. Thanks people. I hope you enjoy the chapter. God Bless :)

Maria Hill POV

Maria was very very proud of her position. She was barely twenty-five years old, and she was already a Level Seven SHIELD Agent.

She walked down the halls of the Witness Protection Building, smiling at her colleagues children, a few worried wives and husbands, until she arrived at room 2078.

She couldn’t believe that the Black Widow herself was in this room. She knocked on the door, and opened it, assuming that the muffled cursing indicated that she had woken the woman up.

She was not prepared for the sight before her.

A /girl/, a teenager was stitching her leg up with a sewing needle and dental floss. There was dried blood crusting up around a red, and obviously infected wound. The wound glistened, the smell of bleach indicating a rough attempt at sanitation.

Despite the gory scene, she couldn’t take her eyes off the girls face. This was not a woman, or a person whom could pass as a college student. This was a child.

Pale bloodstained hands flew up to the edge of the face, and tapping the chin, the face changed. Deep eye bags, scars and traces of acne were traded for an older face. Where smooth skin once lay, early signs that wrinkles were about to appear, showed up. Childish features that not only showed youth, but malnourishment and bloodloss, were traded for the features of a twenty five year-old model.

She gaped, and blinked at the rather violent curse that went out of the teenagers mouth.

“ You are not twenty six. You lied on your entry form.” she stated, hoping to regain some composure after having dropped her jaw.

“I am not twenty six. But I have no other choice. If you are to toss me onto the street, I would rather be sent to the Job Offices than to a foster home or an orphanage” Natasha spat out.

Maria shook herself, and looking at the scarlet stains on the bed, she was reminded of the present problem. No matter how old she was, she still needed medical attention.

She was about to order her to walk to medical, but she stopped. She needed to gain trust.

Natasha was curled up, pressing herself against the headboard. The look in her eyes reminded Maria of the way a wounded deer had looked up at the lion in the NatGeo program she saw the other week.

She grimaced at the realisation that she had assumed the role of the lion.

She stepped forward, and saw Natasha’s muscles tighten as she curled into a defensive stance. This may be a wounded and cornered teenager, but it was still a very deadly, very powerful teenager. A deadly powerful teenager that had brought down the majority of the KGB remnants, and a large child-trafficking syndicate that SHIELD had struggled with for two years.

“ I am going to bring a doctor, and I’m going to get some food. In the closet there is a sweater and some sweat pants, along with some other necessities. Then we can talk about …. your predicament”

She walked out of the room, ignoring the fearful face, and walked off to find Cadet Simmons.

Simmons had already completed the recommended courses to become a SHIELD doctor at age twenty, but her youth did not impair her. 

She was compassionate and accommodating to patients specific needs, and was, most importantly not bound under the official SHIELD Doctor contract which ordered them to report to superiors on every single case involving an agent or a potential agent.

She bought a doughnut, and a protein shake, whilst the doctor quickly scrubbed her hands down, not bothering to put on a lab coat once she heard that the patient had used bleach as a replacement for iodine, or anti-bacterial gel.

Simmons blanched once she heard whom she would be treating, but after smoothing her skirt and hair down, and taking a few deep breaths, the furious determination to heal was back.

The door swung open to reveal a rather wary very tired, and slightly fevered Natasha Romanoff. They eyebags and flushed cheeks were hidden by whatever mask she had on her face, but the fluttering eyelids, and the heat radiating from her body, sent alarm bells ringing.

“ Is it alright if I give you these tablets. This one is an anti-pyretic, to stop the fever, this one is an anti-biotic to stop this infection, and this is a vitamin supplement. If you could just roll these pants up so I could get a better look now …. “

The surprised look on Natasha’s face, indicated that she was unused to medical professionals asking her opinion, or permission to treat her, coupled with the alarming amount of scars decorations her skin, made Maria frown.

What fraction of the KGB was this brutal?

As Natasha gradually relaxed, Maria could pay attention to the leg wound. It was red, and had little puncture holes where Simmons had taken to dental-floss stitches out. It had clearly been done with a serrated knife, perhaps a break knife.

The rest of the leg was pale white skin, with silvery scars decorating certain parts. But on one side, there was a set of numbers that had been branded, repeatedly onto the skin.

“ BW :00378900 “

She quietly handed the doughnut and the shake to her, feeling nausea build up as she saw the awestricken look at the food and care she was been given, combined with a wary suspicion that bubbled up as she sniffed and discreetly poison tested the pills and the food.

Where had she come from? Why was she so wary and suspicious of Simmons? Why didn’t she accept that SHIELD was helping her? How old was she? Why was she so young, yet so old?

Once Simmons had finished, and had sternly ordered her to never use bleach or dental floss as medical equipment again, Maria sat down.

“ When were you born?”

The girl scoffed, matted brown hair with an obvious dye swinging against her pale face.

“ I won’t tell anyone, and If I do I will ask you permission. SHIELD will not toss you out, and we will not send you anywhere unless you force us to.”

“ I was born in 1984.”

“ Tell me the truth”

“ That is the truth.”

“ Fine, how old are you?”

Silence fell. Only the pitter patter of rain sounded in the room.

“ Fifteen. Cryogenic freezing. There, happy?”

 

Her heart sunk, not only was she the worlds deadliest assassin, but she was also a subject to experimentation, and she was way too young. No one could know.

‘ Okay, this will be a secret. I will be your handler until you become an agent. Do not tell anyone.

 

“ When does my training start?”

Maria sighed. Director Pierce and Director Gretreda were very against Barton’s idea. They were trying to make it impossible for there to become an agent.

‘ We will give you a set of course work. Once a week your work will be evaluated by myself, Director Fury, Agent Coulson or Agent May. This is the coursework required to pass Communications Track, Operations Track and Science Track at SHIELD Academy. You have one year.”

She left the room with her heart feeling heavy. Natasha had the odds stacked up against herself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha meets a man mith a metal arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have not updated in , like, forever   
> * Hides in hole waving white flag of peace*  
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter -- I know it seems like the events are happening too soon but otherwise it wouldn't make a difference.
> 
> Please comment, I love you all, God Bless :)

The coursework was pretty basic, to be brutally honest. The Operations coursework was a breeze, even her trainer, Agent May, had admitted that Natasha had passes within a week.

She had gone on her first mission at the age of seven, and had gone on her first solo mission age ten, she knew these rules and tactics like the back of her hand.

Communications was rather basic as well. She knew how to code, and hack, and infiltrate, though her supervisor had given her a rather long lecture about how she had to use methods that “at least appeared legal”.

It was the Science Operations coursework that was giving her trouble. The BiologyOps was rather boring, she had been forced to dissect and identify human anatomy years ago, and she didn’t understand why there were so much information on how to get help if an agent is wounded or injured. Why would an agency look after an agent that is injured, unless the agent can be ready for work within a week?

The chemistry was easy, she knew her poisons, her antidotes, her explosives and her sedatives off be heart. Though her Chemistry supervisor did seem to get rather flustered when she gave him her paper on how to explode a building, apparently a paper on explosives did not require such detail, or such large proportions. Strange.

Physics was a nightmare. She knew how physics helped her fight, and dance and jump, but what was the purpose of knowing how a rocket works?

Agent Hill had been rather helpful. She had ensured that Natasha could train in the gym when no one was awake, and that she could take her coursework with consultant supervisors, not agents.

The man with the arrow had not been seen, and the Director with the eyepatch had occasionally marked her espionage assignments.

After six months of writing papers, training in secret and wanting to take the mask off, she was allowed on her fist mission.

It was pretty basic. Escort an engineer though Ukraine. This was very dull, and required no expertise at all. Ukraine was relatively stable compared to most of the escorting missions she had been on.

The engineer was a rather dull man. Sure, he was working on making an extremely powerful nuclear weapon, but he had only had a few kidnapping threats, and one death threat.

They were three miles from the destination, when the security car stopped. Fifteen minutes ago the driver had received a phone call, and Natasha was already on guard.

She looked out of the window and saw movement in the bushes. She had to act fast. The driver could obviously not be trusted.

She got out of the car, telling the driver that she needed a smoke, and that the engineer had to be with her at all times, just to keep the facade of a normal mission up.

She stepped out, planning an escape route, using her implanted map of all Soviet and Western countries.

She saw a glint of metal, an arm, a familiar arm. But she had never met anyone with a prosthetic, and a sniper.

A sniper.

She leapt in front of the engineer, and felt something rip through her hip.  
A strangled gasp of pain behind her filled her heart with dread.

She had failed the mission.

She ran over to him, ignoring the pain in her hip, and pressed her hands onto his chest hoping to stop the blood loss, but the blood spluttering on his pale lips assured his fate.

She still put pressure on his heart until his last breath.

She had failed.

She knocked the driver out, his guilt ridden face going slack as she knocked him out and left him on the side of the road.

She had to run. She knew what agencies did to failure agents, especially those they had spent money and time on.  
She was not up for another round of punishments, freezing water, hot iron rods —

Not now, she was driving.

It was only when her hands began to shake and her eyelids began to droop that she remembered about the wound.

She would have to seek medical attention of some sort. SHIELD had taken away her money, her disguises and her fake cards.

She would have to go back to SHIELD, sneak out a medical kit and fix it, then run away before anyone noticed that she was back.

She boarded a small private jet, grabbing a spare flight attendant suit, and using some free makeup samples, she smiled and served her way to America.

She arrived at SHIELD, her lips and hands blue, swaying slightly.

She tried to sneak into medical, when she saw the ….angry? face of Maria Hill

Oh no

She was about to turn and run, when instead of whirling around and sprinting, she suddenly noticed that everything, sight, sound, feeling had gone fuzzy.

She felt someone grab her shoulders, and she wanted for fight back, but she just felt sort of tired.And in pain.  
The world turned dark as she heard a distant shout.

Beeping. More Beeping. More annoying beeping. 

She felt out her surroundings. Antiseptic. Scratchy sheets. Tight bandages. On a bed.

Hospital.

No. She was not going to be an experiment. She had to go. Now.  
Her eyes flew open, blinking rapidly as she fought the urge to squint at the glaring lights.

She ripped the IV out, barely noticing the blood streaming down her arm as she went to get up, to feel hands grab her shoulders and push her back on the bed. 

She started fighting them, but the pain in her hip made her stop and hiss. 

This was a test, a ridiculous test. A test she had to succeed in or else- or else …

They were speaking. People weren’t supposed to speak in these tests. This was strange.

“ Natasha, calm down. You’re in SHIELD Medical”

The memories flooded back. She had failed. She tried to hide her panic, but the traitorous heart monitor gave away her stress.

She was going to be executed. She closed her eyes and accepted her fate, then muttered 

“ When is the execution due ?”. She was proud that her voice didn’t waver.

“ What?”

“I failed. Faliures get eliminated, otherwise it’s a waste of resources.”

“ Natasha, you didn’t fail. The intel was weak, SHIELD should have known about the assassin. This was supposed to be a very low risk job.”

She didn’t know what to think of this strange new world where mistakes did not result in death or torture.

“Look Natasha, go to sleep. It is all okay, and we can talk in the morning, hmmm?”

She wanted to ask questions, she wanted to know what they were going to talk about, but her eyes were already feeling heavy as the painkillers kicked in.

The last thought that crossed her mind before she succumbed to the darkness was that the metal-armed sniper had once been a friend…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I hit writers block so i began intergrating the movies. Sorry. Any tips, reviews, advice is very welcome.
> 
> I love you all, remember to look after yourselves 
> 
> God bless :)

The next morning she awoke, and after a moment of sudden panic, she remembered the events that had occurred.

She heard the inhale and exhale of someone close to her bed, and not recognising the brand of aftershave ( Expensive. New. American but faux Italian) she opened her eyes to see the Vice-Director of SHIELD

“ Hello, Miss Romanova.”

Her heart jumped in her chest, her palms felt sweaty, but she remained with a cool and collected demeanour.  
He spoke, but instead of hearing the normal, loud and stern voice, she heard a whisper, a hiss, a secret.

“You will conditionally become a high level agent. You have proven your loyalty to SHIELD. The conditions are that you can never to tell anyone of your age unless forced. You are also not allowed to refuse missions. This is the only offer the Council is giving to you. I urge you to take it.”

Natalia chewed her inner cheek. She was being manipulated, not by Fury, ( rounded eyes. apologetic. guilt. well-masked.) but by the whole Council. She would have to take it.

She nodded, a sharp strict nod.

“Good. You have a mission next week. Seduce and interrogate Fransisco Grantilla, we believe that he is building a crime empire which expands across all of Europe and the Americas.”

And so it began.

She didn’t like it. There was a dull voice in her head telling her this was wrong ( get off me get off me get off ME) but it was better the her past. It was less gory, she didn’t have to tell anyone the details, and Fury seemed to be bent on apologising by giving her cupcakes after missions.

She was called the Red Ghost for a while. She knew she should dye her hair again, stop wearing trademark red lipstick and dresses, but having a persona made her life easier. There was a difference now. Work began, but work ended.

She may have to lie, and cheat, and ki— but she could watch movies, paint her nails and wear warm clothes. At least that is what she tells herself.

It would work a bit better if the nightmares had stopped. But, its the best she’s ever had, so she really can’t complain.

After another three months, the man with the arrows, Hawkeye, returns. He smiles at her, and she smiles back, on reflex.

(When someone smiles, you smile, when someone laughs you laugh. You must learn to mimic Subject !)

But she doesn’t mind. He is a good person. He deserves to be smiled to.

The missions continue. But things start changing.

Barton convinces ( read: begs) Coulson to become her handler. The council is reluctant, but they cannot ignore her perfect mission record.

Coulson is different. He doesn’t read her missions out to her with the greedy monotone that the Councils lapdog did, her reads them out, but sometimes he stutters, other times the colour drains out of his face.

Something snaps when a level -8 mission is read out. Because it isn’t.

Coulson gets half way, stops, and turns a very bright shade of purple.

He glares at the report, then stalks out of the room, leaving a bewildered Natalia in his wake.

She hears muffled screaming.

“   
…….DON’T CARE ….. A NORMAL AGENT… JUST SUICIDE MISSIONS….YING TO GET RID OF HER…. WILL RELEASE….. STOPS NOW!”

Another voice joins in, but Natalia sits there bewildered as to what is going on. The mission was always more important than the person.

So-called “suicide missions” were all the missions she had done. It made her useful. Irreplacable— to an extent. And it wasn’t as if she was worth more that three years of intel.

Coulson entered back in, his tie skewed to the right, his face still a pink flush. Beside him stood Maria Hill, who was white as a sheet, her eyes glaring at the file, and next to them stood a scowling Clint Barton.

“ Your missions will change. You will receive adequate recovery time for injuries, and you will not have more that four missions per week.”  
spoke a clear feminine voice.

She nodded.

“ Dismissed Agents, I have mission parameters to discuss.”

“Agent Coulson, what is my mission”

He eyed her, a prideful look, which made her feel warm.

“Read the file” he spoke gently,” I think you’ll like this one.

She read it, and nearly weeped with joy. An interesting mission. An observation, infiltration, protection and intelligence reporting mission.

She hadn’t had one of these in three years, and the last one had been…. stressful. (13 years old. Snow. Gunfire. Dogs. Child-Trafficking. Arms Dealer)

She stood infant of the mirror, wondering how to do her makeup on top of the mask.

Natural Hair — but curled and waved to perfection. Modest but tight clothes. Formal. Fifties style makeup. 

Classic black eyeliner ( they wont notice the cameras in her contact lenses for analysis).

Red lipstick ( good for drawing attention.) .

Creamy Base ( hide all flaws, all fake creases, all shadows, whilst also accentuating them).

 

She stood in front of the mirror. Her hair lying in scarlet waves, her tight white shirt showing off her curves, whilst the loose grey trousers hide her muscular legs.

She has taken fake photoshoots, built a fake resume, her eyes feel tired from reading books on the psychology of millionaires, of orphans, of alcoholics.

She looks as Natalie Rushman stares back at her from the mirror. She holds the phone up to her ear, and speaks, with a clear, but mild american accent.

“Hello, I’d like to apply for a job in Stark Industries, I heard that a position as Mr Stark’s personal assistant he’s opened up….I will send my resume… Yes, I can do that.. Thank You”

She had an interview with Pepper Potts.

And so it began.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Sorry. SORRY. 
> 
> Okay so i hope this chapter isn't too bad. I hope you lovely people like it.
> 
> God Bless :)

It was pretty easy to slip in. She fitted into what Stark’s likes were ( young but not too young, pretty, curvy, flirtatious) and also managed to fit into what Miss Potts likes as well ( competent, intelligent , responsible).

It did annoy her, having to put heavy makeup on, on top of the mask, but she knew that she had to seem realistic. For once she wasn’t just the fantasy girl or the “Red Ghost”.

Stark was annoying. Interesting but annoying. He didn’t trust her, but he was, underneath it all, a good man.  
Natasha knew that.

(She had changed her name after the mission was given. She liked changing names. A new name meant that her trail was blurred)

And that all meant that she couldn’t let him become a part of SHIELD. Good people never survived in this line of work. They either saw themselves become the monsters they had won to fight, or they couldn’t handle the stress and became a shell.  
Barton was a kind man, a righteous one, but not a good one. He made peace with being who he was, and that set him apart. He was honest, which in this line of work, was better than being good.

She began to see cracks in his armour. The smiles that didn’t reach is eyes as he snaked off with the mayor. The heavy eye bags and the frenzied recklessness. The empty whiskey bottles, and the overfamiliarity with Jarvis.

Pepper Potts was becoming suspicious. Suspicious as to why she wasn’t flirting with Stark. Suspicious as to how she had gotten her number so fast. Suspicious as to why someone so well educated was willing to be Stark’s PA.

It came to a head when Stark grabbed the car. That was her first tip off. Sane, healthy men do not drive in that way.

She saw Vanko step out of the car, electric wires covering his arms as he electrocuted and whipped Stark.  
Vanko was dangerous. His father had been a well known spy-scientist. She had had to study him when she was seven.

Thats when Potts got seriously wary of her. She knew she had under reacted. She was supposed to gasp in shock, perhaps force the colour to drain out of her face, but she had been so caught up in whether to act to to leave it that she had merely stared passively at the screen.

Stupid.

Then Stark is clearly unwell, the palladium poisoning in his blood becoming apparent and now the chlorophyll makes sense, and now the recklessness and …. she hopes she is not too late.

She runs to the labs, telling Potts of a sick sister, and begins to formulate a plan. She works with Simmons, the only scientist willing to work with her.

She shuts off the cameras, locks the door, ignores the way that Simmons almost faints, and takes off the mask.

Simmons agrees to help her. Simmons also tells her that she can make a better mask, which can make her look older, but that isn’t uncomfortable.

The serum is made into a formula but then — Stark ruins it.

He gives Rhodey the suit, gets ridiculously drunk, and Natasha knows its all her fault.

“I would do whatever I wanted to do, with whomever I wanted to do it with” apparently equated getting drunk with a bunch or rich strangers for Stark.

Potts is about to tear her apart, she begins screaming that it is all her fault, when Stark conveniently crashes through the ceiling.

She finds Stark on top of a doughnut, so she calls Fury, now Director of SHIELD, and they talk.

She stalks in, her suit snug against her curves as she walks in. Stark doesn’t even look surprised — just mildly annoyed.

He does, however not like the surprise needle. But she knew that he wouldn’t be able to do it himself, and Fury doesn’t like getting his hands dirty.

( This would, in another circumstance, make a wonderful metaphor, to which she would wryly smirk at. But not now.)

Stark continues to glare at her angrily as she files away his papers. She continues to give him daily doses, even when she finds him asleep covered in motor grease, paper and his green sludge.

He fixes himself, the Starkanium working wonderfully, his health back on track. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t happy at the prospect of not having to lie.

This might be the most honest mission she has ever had in her 17 years of life.

She quite likes it to be honest. It’s unsettling, but it makes her feel clean, defiant.

At Hammers expo she tries not to wince as Rhodey shows up. This is going for the jugular and Hammer knows it. But Vanko is clearly holding all the cards, as she doubts that Hammer views killing Tony Stark as a media ploy.

She grabs Hogan and runs, trying not to snarl in frustration as she sees him staring at her bra. She is no longer a plaything. She is not a toy.

She sips te suit up, and lets him show off as he poorly fights the body guard.

She expends as little energy as possible, merely aiming to knock the guards out and find Vanko, but Hogan made too much noise, so he made an exit.

The hacking is fun. Illegal, but fun. She controls the suits, helping Stark, and wonders briefly what it would be like if she were a normal teenager playing a video game in her room.

It doesn’t sound as repulsive as it once sounded.

The mission ends. Stark hates her evaluation, but she has to try. He is a good man, but good men never last long in this world.  
She tries to slowly cut ties with SHIELD. Barton cosies up to her. He takes her to a farm one day. She meets his wife and children. They terrify her.( so fragile). She continues to distance herself from that world, even trying for an online course that will give her a high school diploma.

And it works. The missions get more dull. She gets the certificate. She has coffee with Barton, and chokes when Lila calls her auntie( sister would be more accurate).  
Laura still tries to talk to her, and Barton keeps inviting her, but she just wants out.

She doesn’t know social cues. Family dynamics are foreign to her, she has never held a toddler, or seen a child run up to her smiling.  
She cant stop feeling like she is tainting the children, poisoning the atmosphere.

She buries herself in missions, even taking honeypots as a way to stave off the stress of having nothing to do.

She decided that this, this is her last mission. She has talked with lawyers, filed papers and ensured that Maria and Simmons have her number.

She is about to extract the information from the man, internally hoping he doesn’t tug her teeth out as that could damage the mask.

His phone rings and she sighs. She is itching to run.

Coulson. Barton is compromised. She owes him twenty three debts. She must save him.

She groans as she realises the implications. The Avengers. 

Being seventeen will have to wait a while…


End file.
